Shattering the Shadow
by DuskStarDragon
Summary: This is a recollection of events from Aja to Reaver a hundred years after the death of the beloved Hero King Alistair (Brother to the former Tyrant Logan). Alistair thinks his kingdom is safe, but he must call upon old friends to embark on a dangerous journey across Albion, Aurora and Samarkand. Rated T for violence and language and whatever else I can write in.
1. Shall I tell you a story?

Disclaimer: I do not own Fable III or any of its characters or storylines. I do own my original characters and plots, so please do not steal. If you do, you will spontaneously combust and I will laugh at the ashes of your remains.

You all should know the drill by now, but I feel like I have to put a disclaimer just to cover my arse. Anyway, if you don't know me, I'm DuskStarDragon and I love Fable… so I wrote a story… a few actually. This would be my third, the others being _In the Shadow of the Mask_ (Fable II) and _The Family Black _(Pre-Fable). I do have to admit that I didn't really want to write a story for Fable III. I didn't feel inspired by the third game… maybe because I thought it was rather cliché… well… so am I, but still. I wasn't going to write a story, but I did start a collection of one shots that are amusing and heartfelt. I began to become attached to the characters that I had created and the personalities I gave. I thought "Why not?" So here I am write a story for Fable III. I don't know if it will be any good. I'm hoping that you guys could tell me how it is going. It features my OC Aja from _In the Shadow of the Mask_, but you don't have to read it before hand, unless you want to. I warn you, it is a tad long… around forty chapters or so… a good night's read… or a few days… Now for a little summary

This is a recollection of events from Aja to Reaver a hundred years after the death of the beloved Hero King Alistair (Brother to the former Tyrant Logan). Alistair thinks his kingdom is safe, but he must call upon old friends to embark on a dangerous journey across Albion, Aurora and Samarkand.

**Shattering the Shadow**

**Chapter One**

**Shall I tell you a story?**

* * *

"What a mess," she sighed as she entered the once grand foyer, "I suppose he has no reason to keep this place tidy… or anyone to do it for him," she noticed the half filled goblets of wine and uneaten plates of food.

The stairs creaked and moaned as she climbed them. She had to watch her step. Streamers, plates, silverware and glasses littered them up and down. Bits of leftover food rotted on the plates and silverware to a point where it offended the nose. It didn't bother her so much. There were farther worse smells that she had filled her nose. She tried to hold her breath, but the smell seemed to have embedded itself in her nares. She would just have to let it be. The second floor was no better as she made her way up. The doors were flung open without a care and revealed a more disturbing sight.

A formal dining table made of solid mahogany lay set and ready to host a grand party. The most beautiful bone china was set with every type of fork, spoon and knife known to man. Stem glassware of fine crystal sat just above the round white plates. The plates were simple, but were embedded with a circle of gold on the outer most rim. A lace runner cut the table in half with its delicate design of interwoven flowers and leaves. A fine piece of Samarkand craft.

"Ah… my dear Aja!" a happy voice greeted her as she made her way to the head of the table.

She rolled her eyes as she watched a rather enthused bearded man get up from the largest, most decorated chair.

"Or do you go by Sephire… or Serphim… or maybe something else?" the man pondered out loud as he approached.

"Whatever you prefer my dear," she sniffed, "Oh Reaver," she held her nose as he drew nearer, "When is the last time you bathed?"

"Hmm?" he rubbed his whiskered fill chin, "I think it was about three…"

"Don't say three days ago," she didn't believe him.

"Hmm?" he thought once more, "What did you say Barry?" he looked to an empty chair, "Oh yes. It's been about three months," he sat back down in the large wooden chair.

She tried to hold back the forming lump in her throat, "I see," she pulled out a chair for herself, "Is bathing out of style or did you just want to revel in your own filth?"

"So sorry my dear," he slapped the air in the empty chair, "Barry where are your manners? You should always pull out a seat for a guest," he scolded the unseen figure.

"It's alright Reaver," she smiled to the empty chair, "I really never liked all that fancy stuff," she traced her finger along the golden rim of the plate in front of her, "Besides, I'm not staying long…"

"No, no," Reaver frowned, "You are a guest and I, as your gracious and handsome host, insist that you stay for dinner," he clapped his hands lightly, "Barry, fetch the best Chardonnay… oh… we're out? How about that Merlot? No… that one was gone last week? I know," he smiled, "Bring that bottle of Pinot Noir that I've been saving for a special occasion," he winked to her, "What do you mean that one has gone missing!?" he growled as he stood menacing over the empty chair.

"Reaver," she gently took his hand, "It is alright," she made him sit back down, "I have a simple bottle of grape juice and some meat, cheese and bread," she fumbled around in her bag, "but I'm not all that hungry right now," she pulled out the bottle, "How about before dinner," she stood up, "we get cleaned up first," she offered her hand, "I have been traveling for quite some time and I could use some refreshing. Would you show me the way?"

He looked to her hand and timidly reach out for it, "I suppose a quick wash would do nice," he noticed his finger nails, "Were these always so black?" he couldn't remember.

She gently helped him up and hooked her arm into his, "We'll find out."

Though she asked him to lead her, she was the one pulling him towards the bathroom. He was so lost and confused in a place that he called home for the longest time. Time had not been kind to him. not many things had been kind to him for the longest while. It was the lease she could do for a man that once had everything and then lost it when he gave up what was so precious.

"Tell me my dear," she pushed open the door to the bathroom, "Would you like to hear a story?"

"A story?" he frowned and scrunched his brows, "Is it a sad one or a happy one?"

"A little bit of both," she sat him down on the white porcelain toilet, "It is an adventure, a tragedy, a mystery and a love story all in one," she turned on the hot water, "Glad that's still running," she whispered to herself.

"Sounds fantastic!" he grew excited, "Did this happen a long time ago?"

"Long enough," she checked the temperature of the water, "But you were around…"

"I'm in the story!?" he was tickled pink, "Go on!" he giggled like a school girl, "Tell it," he looked to his left, "Isn't this exciting Barry?"

She smiled back as she stopped the water, "I will," she started to pull off his outer wear, "just sit back and relax," she set him down in the warm water, "Let me whisk you with a story that only the winds know," she gently started to rub his body, "Let you mind delve deep into a world that you once knew… but now have forgotten," she smiled as she poured water over his head, "Remember what you have given up to achieve your heart's desire," she lathered his hair.

"What… who…?" he tried to remember, "… Ryane…"

"Yes Reaver my dear," she sighed, "Ryane."


	2. Out of the Throne Room

**Chapter Two:**

**Out of the Throne Room**

* * *

The sunlight danced through the stained glass window. Every color of the rainbow could be seen. The hues of blue waltzed around the blushing shades of red. The brilliant greens and laughing yellows twirled about in a mad spin. Imperial purples and sunny oranges bowed to each other, but kept their distance due to their differences. It was like a party where only colors were invited. Never had he seen so many colors, not even at a royal ball. Women would wear the most elegant and frilly of dresses. They were every color that could be made. But, in his opinion, the sun made the most.

He yawned.

"Is the fiscal report boring you your Highness?" Hobson asked in a sarcastic tone.

"Huh?" he snapped away from the brilliant colors, "Sorry Hobson," apologized, "I was… I was… just thinking about… the…," he tried to think of something financial, "… monetary value of the pence is worth less than the metal it is made out of…," that sounded intelligent.

"Oh… yes," Hobson flipped back to that report, "I didn't think that it was all that important… but if you…," he looked up at him.

"There should be a review," he quickly answered, "… on whether or not a pence is worth the time and metal to produce…"

"Yes…," Hobson pulled out his appointment book, "It looks like there is enough time today to set a meeting…"

"NO!" he yelled, "I mean," he composed himself, "There is already plenty of appointments and adding another thing could throw off the entire day. Besides," he got up from the throne, "I think it is something that the people should decide. They are the ones that use it the most… or not," he thought to all those times he found pence in the gutters and lying in the streets.

"You would want to have the people decide on whether or not we continue the production of coin currency?" Hobson seemed appalled by the very idea.

He shrugged his shoulders, "Why not?"

Hobson couldn't answer that. He just stared into the empty space behind the throne. He would always do that whenever he didn't want to make eye contact with someone. It didn't matter who it was, if he couldn't answer them right then and there, he would just stare with his mouth partially open in thought.

"Get a survey drawn up," he walked past the still in thought butler, "I'm sure whatever you chose will meet my approval," he lightly patted him on the shoulder, "I'm heading to my next appointment," he lied, "Come on boy!" he called to his furry friend that still laid asleep by the throne.

He lazily stood up and stretched for a long time. Prancing down the red carpet, he came up to his master's side and waited to see where they were going next.

"Good boy Rook," he vigorously rubbed him on the head.

The pair headed to the great wooden doors. They were the most glorious sight in the room. Though not as entertaining as the dance of the colors. Their intricate designs had been hand carved into the dark hard wood. The golden handles shined and glistened in the bright sunlight. They locked away the matters of the kingdom, but also opened widely so the world may look in. They were his way out into the world. For too long he had been cooped up in the walls of the throne room. Too long he had to sit on a throne that was unforgiving to the back and butt. So many hours had been spent sitting above those that he considered his equal. Those most wondrous doors were within reach. All he had to do was pull the handles.

"I DEMAND AN AUDIENCE WITH THE KING!" a voice seemed to throw open the doors.

He nearly fell back as the heavy doors blew open. He managed to catch himself, but still felt unbalanced by the whole experience. Rook was too surprised by the sudden event and instantly jumped in front of his Master.

"Ah… just the man I wanted to see," a crooked smiled greeted him.

"Reaver," he growled.

There stood before him a man that he thought he had seen the last of. Or at least he had hoped he'd seen the last of. He was a man of thin built and lanky stature. His ridiculously tall hat only made him seem taller. The pair of goggles that perched on the brim of the hat twinkled and beamed in the sunlight. The crispness of his white apparel almost seemed unnatural. The black fur that surrounded his neck and down the collar of his coat bounced around like it was alive. His obviously fake heart shaped birthmark on his face, meant to be cute, sat just below his eye, but raise with his devilishly curl lips.

Tapping his black ivory cane twice on the floor, he cleared his throat, "Your Majesty," he bowed halfway, "I have come to register a complaint…"

"Sorry Reaver," he wanted passed him, "But I have a very busy day. All the affairs of a Kingdom to look after."

"Certainly we can make some time for an industrious man like Reaver?" Hobson was knocked out of his stare, "His company does provide a lot of jobs and goods for the people of Albion. And," he looked through his appointment book, "There is just enough time before your next appointment to listen to whatever Mr. Reaver has to say," he tried to persuade.

He could only roll his eyes and give a huff, "What do you need Reaver?" he folded his arms.

Reaver puffed himself up and gave a big frown, "I need justice. Justice for all the goods that have been stolen from my ships and transport," he threw up his hand dramatically, "I can't take it anymore!"

"Get more guards then," he only shrugged his shoulders.

"Your Majesty!" Hobson chided.

"I Demand that there be something done about the thief," Reaver curled his lips, but only for a moment, "a dangerous person like this shouldn't be roaming freely about Albion. He or she is a detriment to society," he tried to act so high, "These are goods intended for the deserving people of Your kingdom," he stressed, "For the King not to act would surely be seen as a sign of weakness," he smirked.

He wasn't falling for it, "If you are asking for royal guards, I will have to deny that request. They are currently busy with maintaining the peace. A peace that I might add," he eyed the frowning Reaver, "that has benefited your company."

"There is no peace for my company," Reaver protested, "I am be targeted intentional. I can understand what happen during the liberation of Albion from your tyrant brother…"

"Don't even," he warned him with a glare.

Reaver quickly bowed, "My apologies. I didn't realize how sore of a subject your brother Logan was."

"It is," he growled once more, "Now either finish your business here or leave."

Reaver knew that he wasn't going to get his way that day, "I believe that I will take my leave," he bowed lowly, "Good day… King Alistair…," he left with a huff.

The tall and self-important man gave a final bow and disappeared out the doorway.

Hobson peaked to see if Reaver was still in within earshot, "Really your Majesty?" he huffed, "Reaver is a vital business man to Albion. If it weren't for his goods and services, we might have not survived the attack of that Crawler creature," he shuttered, "You should try to treat him with some sort of respect," he scolded, "It is a small thing to track down a thief and I'm sure that a few guards or soldiers wouldn't mind…," he prattled on.

Alistair thought as Hobson went on about how guards from each patrol could be used to hunt down Reaver's thief. It was true that as the ruler of Albion, he couldn't allow a thief to steal from an industry that was the backbone of the economy. Reaver was not the most… honest or trustworthy or likeable or agreeable or humane or… where was he going with this?

"Right," he remember.

"Excuse me?" Hobson looked to him.

"I was thinking," he rubbed his chin, "That we should investigate Reaver's claim. You were right in saying that his company provides the many wonderful things that we and the rest of the kingdom enjoy. If someone is stealing from Reaver," he started to exit with his friend at his heels, "then they are stealing from all of us."

Hobson smiled, "Very correct Sir. I shall rally the troops and look into the matter personally."

"No," Alistair smirked, "I'll conduct my own inquiry," he quickly closed the doors.

"But your Majesty!" he called out from behind the heavy wooden doors.

"Hey Rook," he ignored the shouts of his butler, "Do you think that Page and Ben are busy?"

This was the most exciting question he could have asked. He bounced and jumped at the thought of seeing two old friends again. It had been so long since he had been outside the castle. He knew that his Master had been growing more and more frustrated every day that he had to come and sit on the large wood and cloth chair. But now there was this promise. This promise to see the ones that lived outside the walls of stone and brick.

"I'll take that as a yes," Alistair caught Rook on one of his bounces and gave him a good belly rub.

In return he gave his Master a few good licks.

"That's enough boy," he put him back on the ground, "Let's go find Ben… I think I might know where to look for him… with Page," he chuckled to himself.


	3. Beyond the Walls

**Chapter Three:**

**Beyond the Walls**

* * *

Reaver sat quietly as Aja told him a story that happened so long ago. He smiled and smirked at her words. Though she couldn't tell if he was actually listening.

"I really burst through the doors and demanded so much for a king?" he laughed at the idea.

She only smiled, "Yes… yes you did. You were a little bit bolder back then," she continued to scrub his back, "I think the filth has stained your skin," she was more than a little disgusted.

"Barry says that is probably from the sheets in my private chambers," he giggled to an invisible figure sitting on the toilet.

She had to compose herself for a moment before she could continue, "Reaver… never mind," she took the bar of soap directly to his back, "You know King Alistair went through a lot of trouble to help you, even though you tried to kill him at one point."

"Really?" he questioned, "… Did I ever thank him…?" he stared into the distance.

"I don't know," she had to admit, "It doesn't seem like something you would do… well, you as Reaver."

"Yes… I suppose that Reaver wouldn't," he had to agree, "Tell me what happened next," he wanted to know.

"Alright," she smiled and continued, "Alistair and Rook were lucky that they were able to sneak out of the castle without being seen…"

The streets of Bowerstone were filled to the brim with people that day. That or he hadn't been outside for the longest time. He really couldn't remember the last time he got to walk out amongst the people of his kingdom. It should have been just like any other walk, but it felt so strange. It was like when he first entered the sprawling city not a prince, but as a rebel. It was his birthplace, but for so long he knew nothing about it. He would look down from the castle and see all the rooftops and little people moving about the streets. He would pretend about the lives they were living and wonder if they ever looked up to the castle and did the same. He never could have imagined the dread they felt every day. He could have never come up with a life that was filled with fear and hunger. He could have never imagine what he had seen when he first walked into the streets of Bowerstone.

"Good to see that the economy is doing better than Hobson was hinting at," Alistair smiled as he watched vendors trading and selling goods.

It was only two years ago that people were walking around in a daze, not even bothering to look at what the stalls had to offer. They couldn't afford too. Life was already hard when there was no bread. Even an apple was too much. Gold coins… even a pence was a rare commodity… though he did find quite a few in the gutters while he traveled. Now people were pulling out their purses and satchels without a care. Some still had to watch what they were spending, but they always had food on the table when they got home. Things still weren't right. People were still poor. But things were better. People had places they could go to sleep and get a good meal. Dirty children didn't run about looking for coins or from their difficult and dangerous labors. They now where dressed in pressed uniforms and hurried along to their lessons. They laughed and giggled with joy… not cried and begged. Things were better, but there was still so much more he could do.

"What do you think boy?" he rubbed his furry friend's head roughly, "Think that Ben's in Bowerstone Industrial with Page?"

He perked up his black ears. Throwing his wiggling tail up into the air, he could barely contain himself. His whole body contorted and twisted into a knot. There was no way that he could stop. It was all just too exciting.

"Come on then," Alistair ran ahead of him as he use to when they were younger.

They ran off through the cobblestone streets. He would look back to make sure that his companion was close by. Rook, not even trying, would be just a few steps behind him with his rather moist tongue hanging out. It was a little harder that day due to the crowds, but they still managed to have a good race through Bowerstone Market.

"Of course you would pull out at the last moment," Alistair had to catch his breath while Rook seemed to want a rematch.

There was a clear difference between the quarters of Bowerstone. The market was so clean and fresh. The vibrant colors of the shops' and stalls' signs. The vendors calling out for all to come and see their wares. People walking around in their new clothes and always looking for a good deal. It was a place full of life and joy.

Not the industrial quarter.

There seemed to be a smog that hung over the place. The sun seemed to have a hard time getting passed the tall smoke stacks. Where it did, it only revealed the soot and grime covered buildings. There were a few stalls and their proud vendors did call, but not as often or as cheerful as the ones in the market. The people, though in better standings, still did not have the best of things. Their clothes were brown and not brightly colored. The poor tended to be at most of the corners to beg for their daily bread. It was hard for them to give up old habits.

"Things have changed," he sighed as he walked past a school that was once a factory, "But I still need to do better. It will take time…," he pondered as he walked along, "I didn't know where to start before… I had help," memories of gone friends bubbled in his mind, "I've come a long way… had to grow up… though I really didn't want to," he grumbled, "So much to do," he sighed as he looked up to the smoke filled sky, "Don't know why I'm going on a bandit hunt when there is so much to do around here," he was starting to regret his decision.

Oomph! He bumped into someone.

"So sorry," he steadied himself, "I wasn't looking where I was going," he looked up to see who he ran into.

"Isn't that royalty for you," the blonde haired man crossed his arms with a huff, "Head's always in the cloud."

"Ben!" Alistair smiled as he went to shake his hand.

"Good to see you your Majesty," Ben smirked as he took hold of the King's.

"You know you can call me Alistair," he shook his head.

"Ah well…," Ben laughed, "Wouldn't want to have to face a firing squad or thrown to jail of something," he joked.

Alistair joined him in a laugh, "Wouldn't want to have to do that."

They both settled down and there was a brief silence.

"So…," Ben didn't enjoy the peace and quiet, "What brings the clean and pristine King down to the docks of the dirty industrial area?"

Alistair pulled in closer, "I actually need a favor, but…," he looked around, "a little privacy is needed."

"Oh…," he nodded his head, "I see…," he gave a quick look around, "I know where we can go. Come on," he motioned for him to follow.

Alistair had an idea where Ben was going to lead them, but follow he would. It wouldn't be the most private of places, but not a lot of people would have been interested in what they had to say. It would be fine, but there were better places to discuss matters.

"Here we are," Ben smiled, "The Riveter's Rest. The lowest you can go when you've already dropped through the bottom," he chuckled.

"Had many of good times here with Kidd and the gang," he thought back to when he called the sewers his home.

"Got so pickled you didn't mind the smell of this place," Ben was thinking of the same times.

Pushing open the swinging doors, the pair stepped into the dimly lit pub.

"Stay out here boy," Alistair patted his dog on the head.

He just gave him a little dirty look and then lay down with a huff.

"We won't be long," he promised.

The barkeep nodded to them as they looked for a table away from everyone. There were only a few old patrons there. They each had about three empty mugs in front of them. They looked rather dazed and not all together with it. One seemed to realize that new bodies had entered, but that was about all he could do.

"Here we go," Ben found a table towards the back of the pub, "Allow me," he pulled out a chair with a smirk on his face.

"Knock it off Ben," Alistair pulled out the other chair.

"So what's with all the cloak and daggers?" Ben sat down, "Albion in danger again. Another dark being from a faraway land that want to destroy everything we hold near and dear? Or some sort of uprising that wants to restore Logan to the throne?"

Alistair gave him a glare.

"Sorry, sorry," Ben apologized, "Sore subject. I know."

Alistair leaned back and sighed, "I didn't mean to make it sound so important. I just didn't want to talk with so many people around. I need some help an issue that was brought to my attention," he rolled his eyes at the thought of Reaver's overacted performance, "I was hoping that you and Page could help me out… since I haven't been outside the walls in what seems like forever," he moaned.

"Feeling a little lost out here?" Ben smirked, "Don't blame you… it's been quite some time since you've gotten down and dirty. You know," he leaned on the wobbly table, "gotten into the trenches. Fought a bunch of Hollow Men that only want to rip you apart. Snuck into a mercenary's camp just to destroy them all," he went on, "Or maybe wake up to a girl that you don't remember going with… oh wait," he smirked, "That one's me."

"Ben," Alistair gave him a dead stare.

"I know, I know," he sighed, "Shut up."

"Look," Alistair sat up, "I need help finding a thief…"

Ben started to comment, but the King's stare made him think twice.

"Reaver Industries has been experiencing theft problems," he started to explain, "Shipments have gone missing… and well," he scratched his head, "We need to apprehend him."

Ben just looked at him with a blank stare. He either didn't hear what he had just said or realized what he was asking.

"I know, I know," Alistair couldn't blame him, "But Reaver Industries supplies goods and jobs to the people of Albion and beyond. Things are better," he pointed out, "With the labor unions and fair pay, people are able to work in a safer conditions and get paid a good wage for the hard work they do."

"Who you trying to convince?" he obviously wasn't.

"… I would say no one, but that would be a lie, but," he gave a hard stare, "Things are better and getting better each day. As for this thief business," he sighed, "I really can't have an individual or group of individuals stealing from the main contributor of the economy. It wouldn't look good… and they might start going after the citizens… the innocent citizens that have seen too many hard times as it it…," he looked to Ben with sad eyes, "Don't they deserve to rest peacefully at night knowing that there isn't a crazed thief running about?"

"Really?" Ben stared at him, "The Sad Puppy Dog Eyes routine? Is that the best you can do?"

He knew it was useless against someone like Ben, "You gonna help or not?"

Ben rubbed his chin as he leaned back in his chair, "Helping out a man that has single handedly has caused the most pain and misery in the history of Albion. Not to mention that he tried to kill you and Page during that Masquerade incident," he reminded him, "Then trying to convince you to keep child labor, turn the Eco Warrior village into a sewage dump, make Kalin and her people work for their citizenship, drain Bowerstone Lake, turn a blind eye to Sabine and his dwellers… every single thing that is evil he tried to have you reinstate…"

"And turn the homeless shelters into brothels," Alistair got the idea.

"Oh… yeah… wouldn't have minded that one so much," a little smirk formed on his face.

"Ben!" he was a more than disappointed.

"Yeah, yeah," he knew that he was wrong, "I suppose I could help out," he sighed, "Being the Captain of the Royal Guard and all. It is my job to make sure that nothing happens to my King," he smiled.

"I knew you would help," Alistair stood up, "I can always depend on you."

"They don't call me dependable Ben for nothing," Ben got up as well.

"I thought they called you…" Alistair recalled a different name.

"That was a long time ago," he quickly cut him off, "Besides… I've grown out of that…," he sniffed, "I suppose you'll want to go find Page now… though I don't think she'll be of any assistance knowing who we're helping out."

He knew that she wouldn't want to help knowing that Reaver was involved. There was no one else that she loathed more than him. Not that he could blame her. Because of Reaver, she and lots of other children were forced to work in factories surrounded by dangerous machines. There was not telling the horrors she must have witness growing up in those conditions. She never spoke of it. It was something that probably no one ever truly got over. It was something that was held deep within the heart… a wound that would never heal. No… he couldn't blame her if she wouldn't help.

"I suppose it wouldn't feel right not having her there though," Ben thought of fonder… bloodier times, "Let's go see her," he headed for the door.

"Where is she hanging out these days?" he followed after him.

"She's down at one of the schools," Ben explained, "Telling the children that they can do anything they want and all that. Trying to inspire a new generation of rebels," he laughed.

"Guess I should be careful," he joined him.

"Yeah… or we'll have a pipsqueak rebellion on our hands," Ben laughed.

"Wouldn't want that," they both laughed as they made their way down the cobblestone street.


	4. School is in Session

**Chapter Four**

**School is in Session**

* * *

Reaver smiled at the mention of Page's name. There were probably some memories he had of her. Though they only met in person a few times, she still managed to leave quite the impression him. Aja could understand that. Page was one of those people that couldn't be forgotten. She left a deep mark on the mind and penetrated the soul. Her history… her story… though brutal and complex, never hindered her. It bore her into the world and gave her a new life that was bold and beautiful… much like herself.

"She is quite the woman," he growled suggestively, "I know that you had a hard time keeping your hands to yourself Barry… naughty boy," he playfully giggled.

"Stay still," Aja growled as she tried to remove the weeks and months of grime from his long straggly hair, "I think I might just have to cut it off…," she sighed as she pondered what the sticky ball stuck in his hair was.

"Don't do that!" he grew alarmed, "My hair sits so well and that takes a lot to make it do that," he ran his hand through his hair, but it became stuck.

She gently detangled his hand, "It sits like a rat's nest," she wouldn't have been surprised it one jumped out, "I'm just going to fix it a little," she reached for a comb and a pair of scissors.

"Should I?" he looked to the empty toilet, "Barry says that it looks fine."

She rolled her eyes, "He's a brown noser and will say anything to please you," she would have to play along.

"True," he had to agree, "Alright," he agreed, "Only if you promised to keep telling this delightful story… but I want to hear more about me," he smiled with a little clap of his hands.

"Of course," she gave a sigh of relief, "That's why I'm here. Now where was I? Right. Our Hero King, his furry friend and faithful Captain of the Royal Guard was trying to find the ever persistent former Bowerstone Resistance Leader…"

…

Ben looked walked left, then stopped. Thinking for a moment, he then went right, but that didn't seem right either. Looking up to the sign post, he scratched his head in confusion. For some odd reason, the layout of the city had slipped his mind.

"Maybe… it was this way?" he headed back to the left, "Or maybe that kettle factory was the one?" he started to go right.

"For someone that has been out in the field, you sure don't know the lay of the land," Alistair smirked.

"The field I know," Ben growled, "The city is still a maze. Can't get any direction when all the buildings look the same," he commented.

"It's not all that bad," Alistair approached the sign post, "Hmm…," he studied it carefully, "The school should be… that way," he pointed behind them as did Rook in perfect form.

"Where does it say that?" he didn't believe him as he looked himself, "There's no sign for the school."

"Except for the one over the building that says School," he pointed to the large engraved sign.

"Didn't even see that…," Ben murmured to himself, "How did you?" he questioned with a raised brow.

"I am the King after all," Alistair shrugged his shoulders as he made his way to the former factory, "I am supposed to know every nook and cranny of my kingdom…," he smirked to himself.

"No… really. How did you see this place?" Ben caught up to him.

Alistair turned around and gave a big smile, "I saw a kid trying to sneak into the building when you were debating on which way to go. The teacher caught him and gave him a detention for being late."

"You little cheater," Ben playful punched him in the shoulder.

Rook gave a bark in his master's defense.

"You too," Ben pointed down to him.

"Come on Ben," Alistair hurried him, "Got to see if Page is here."

They quickly made their way to the open doors of the factory turned school. The old wooden doors had been recently washed and finished for the new school year. The rusted iron handles were replaced with shiny new brass one. The sign above the doors no longer said Reaver's Gears and Rods Factory, but in engraved with Bright Minds for a Bright Future Academy. It was a rather long name for a public school, though it did have a nice ring to it.

"Good morning Mrs. Norton," all the children chimed in one voice.

"Good morning class," the teacher greeted.

Alistair and Ben hung back to see what was going on.

"I have a special treat for you today," the teacher cheerfully announced, "Today Miss Page, a brave woman that fought for the freedom and betterment of Albion."

"YAY!" they all cheered loudly.

"Thank you children," Page stepped from behind one of the old pieces of machinery.

Most of the old factory was cleared out. The machinery that the children use to work on were taken away to some other place or recycled for parts. Some of the bigger pieces couldn't be moved because they were built into the structure. Removing them could cause the whole thing to come crashing down. The teacher and students made the best of it though. They had painted them bright colors or hung their coats and hats on them or even able to store their supplies in them. One of the hollow machines was converted into a bookshelf with all sorts of hard bound books. Their desks that use to be rickety rotting wooden tables were now made of fine oak, as were their chairs. There was no fear of a desk collapsing or a chair wobbling. The mobile chalkboard still sat at the head of the class, but now the teacher had solid desk of her own to grade papers and rest her feet after lecturing. All the children sat with breathless anticipation to listen to what the Hero of their beloved Bowerstone had to say.

"I am very happy to see all your smiling faces," she smiled to them.

"Aww," both Alistair and Ben snickered to one another.

"I hope that you all are doing well in your studies," Page eyed each and every one of them.

"Yes Miss Page," they all sounded off.

"Good. You are very lucky to have a good school," she nodded to the teacher, "and Mrs. Norton as a teacher."

The teacher blushed.

"When I was growing up here in Bowerstone Industrial, I didn't get to go to school. My family, like many of yours," she sighed, "was poor and couldn't afford it. I did however," she smiled, "find pages of books and articles. With these I taught myself to read. I grew to love books and wanted only to read more and more… What are some of your favorite kinds of books to read?" she asked to them.

They thought for a second, then one raised her hand, "I love reading about people falling in love," she sighed with content.

"Boring," one of the boys called out, "It's all about fighting and blood. You know," he looked to his fellow boys, "books about soldiers surviving the impossible and seeking revenge on wrong doers."

Most of the other boys agreed with him, while the girls just moaned.

"Miss Page," the littlest girl raised her hand.

"Yes?" she gently smiled.

The little girl blushed as she tried to find her question, "… what is your kind of favorite book?"

Everyone looked up to her with hungry eyes. It was certainly something that they all wanted to know. Alistair and Ben certainly did.

"Well…," she looked to the ceiling in thought, "I love reading all sorts of things… from dramas to romances… from war to a good mystery. But if I had to pick my favorite one… I would say… fairytales are my choice."

They all looked to one another in surprise. They would have figured that she would prefer something with more action.

"For me," she explained, "Fairytales were a way to escape my troubles as a child. They took me to a world that was completely different from the one that I was living it. I could get sucked into it and forget about where I was or that my stomach was growling. I loved to read about Heroes and how they took on the most evil and darkest creatures to roam Albion. I would sometimes like to pretend that I was one of those Heroes and I too could vanquish the shadows from the land."

Heroes… there were so many stories about the Heroes of old. But that's all they were… stories. The deeds that they had done. The battles they had won. The amazing powers that they alone possessed. They were all stories… a lost history of Albion. A time that was long forgotten. It was his mother's history… it was his history… it was Logan's history. What was once stories, now had new life.

Alistair quickly shook his head. He wanted to hear more of what Page thought of the stories of old. She spoke of the bravery and chivalry with eloquent words. They rolled from her tongue and wove into beautiful images in the innocent minds of the children. They sat there in awe as she recalled perfectly from memory some of the most richly detailed stories in history. She swayed back and forth as if she was on the deck of a ship during a tremendous storm. She parried and thrust at an invisible foe… she was winning of course. Bowing lowly to some royalty, she graciously accepted the honor of being called Sir. She finished with a smile and a wink, saying that they too could amount to such greatest. They all cheered and gave a hooray, only wanting more.

"Settle down my little ones," the teacher quietly them down, "Does anyone have any more questions for Miss Page before she goes?"

One raised his hand, "Can I become a Hero… like the King?"

They all turned their attention back up to her and waited for her answer.

Page placed her hands on her hips and looked down to the floor. She always did that when she needed to think. It really wasn't a question that she could answer. But she would have to answer carefully. Lying was no good, but the truth would be far too harmful. An in between would be the best… still how does one put it to a child with such great light in their eyes?

"A Hero like the King?" Alistair left his hiding place, "That is an interesting proposal," he walked past the children that stared and whispered in excitement, "Wouldn't you say Page?" he smirked up to her.

She was about to answer, but he continued on.

"A Hero like the King, well… they can get a big head," he puffed out his cheeks and crossed his eyes.

All the children started to giggle at his funny face.

"You don't want to a Hero like the King," he snorted, "No… you children don't need to be a Hero like the King," he stood next to Page with pride, "Heroes of old had their time… it is time for a new kind of Hero," he placed his hand on her shoulder, "A Hero that is for the people, of the people and," he smiled to her, "one of the people. People like Page… like Captain Ben Finn," he motioned for him to step forward.

"Hey kids," he greeted them as he came to the front of the class, "Hey there," he gave a wink to the teacher.

Page, behind Alistair's back, gave Ben a quick pinch. He tried not to wince, but her grip was strong and her nails dug into his flesh.

"They are everyday people that have risen above the darkness. They took not into their hearts the evil that surrounded them, but cultivated the light they held. Sure they've had some bumps in their lives," he eyed Ben, "but they overcame them. No children," Alistair looked to each and every one of them, "Don't be like the King… he's a bit of a fool, but," he put his arms around Page and Ben's shoulders, "thanks to good friends and good advice, the Kingdom is safe."

The children weren't sure what to say or to do.

"Ah…," the teacher found her voice, "… lets thank Page, Captain Finn and His Majesty, King Alistair taking time out of their busy schedule to come and speak to us."

Slowly, they started to clap. The three former revolutionists gave a small bow.

"Thanks for the listen kids," Ben smiled, "But me, Miss Page and the King here need to discuss some important Kingdom stuff. Alright?"

"Yes Sir," they saluted the best they could.

"Dismissed," Ben saluted back.

The three quickly exited the school before the children could ask any questions. Coming out into the smoke filtered sunlight, they took in a deep breath, but not too deep.

"Didn't expect to see you down this way," Page gave Alistair a smirk.

He shared her smirked, "Just thought I would go for a walk."

"In Bowerstone Industrial?" she knew that he was joking, "Really, what are you doing here? And what's this about discussing Important Kingdom stuff?" she crossed her arms waiting for an explanation.

"Let me," Ben stepped forward, "I'll break it to her gently."

"Is something wrong?" she pushed him to the side, "Is something threatening Albion or Aurora?" her eyes flickered with fear as she looked up Alistair.

"No Page," he assured her, "I just need your help in tracking down a theft."

She sighed in relief, "Someone steal your crown?" she poked him in the forehead.

"I wish," he rolled his eyes, "No… more like someone has been stealing supplies…," he tried not to make eye contract.

"From who?" she narrowed her brows.

"… Reaver…," he smiled.

"No…," she turned around with a huff and hurried off.

"Told you to let me handle her," Ben shrugged his shoulder as he followed after her, "Hold up Page," he called.

Alistair knew that there was a slim chance that she would help. He understood the anger that she felt for him went deep. Why would she do anything for him when he had done so little… taken so much? Who in their right mind to anything for him?

"Woof!" Rook caught his attention.

"Huh?" he looked to his barking friend.

He ran up the cobblestone road to where Ben was trying to get Page to stop. He whined and kept running back and forth in order to get him to follow.

"Just have to hope for the best," Alistair took in a deep breath.


End file.
